We were driving down a busy two-lane surface street in Portland, Oregon. We were in the left lane. A few blocks away we would need to make a right turn in order to reach our destination which was, ostensibly, the ultimate goal of the expedition.

You can probably see where this is going. Kudos to me. I have done my job as a writer. This is called foreshadowing.

Everyone in the right lane was somehow able to sense my need and aggressively squeezed together like sardines in a can. It was truly something to behold.

Dammit, I thought angrily to myself. I knew I should have changed lanes when that open spot presented itself 42 miles back. Who knew that would be my one and only opportunity? But that’s the way this shit works.

I could have done what everyone else does and slammed on my brakes while nudging to the right daring everyone to miss me but that’s not my way. I like to be different. I like the path not taken.

In this case that was a few blocks further on down the road. And that’s where this adventure really begins.

I was flushed with excitement when I made the team. I almost flipped my lid. Not one to fly off the handle, I was resolute and went about the business of doing my job. This consisted mainly of navigating a dinghy about a very small body of water. I’d sing as I tackled the task. “I sail the ocean blue and my saucy shit’s a beauty. I’m a sober man and true, and attentive to my doody. Ahoy! Ahoy!”

For I had set my sights high. I was the man lucky enough to know his own destiny. One day, if I worked hard enough, my teammates and I, as members of the Pack Ten conference, would play in The Toilet Bowl. Perhaps not the bowl sponsored by Tostitos but at least the one that had Ex-Lax, Preparation H and Beano.

There’s no use crying about it. Valentine’s Day is upon us. It’s not like there’s anything we can do to stop it. Be mine.

At least we’ve got Christian Grey to take away the sting of days like this. That’s bound to be good, right? (Then again, maybe not. These are just comments off the cuff.) Oh well, let’s see what I can whip up.

Cryin’ Man
(sung to the tune of Iron Man)

I am cryin’ man (robotically auto-tuned)

Is love live or dead?
Muff the day and she’ll see red
Did he buy a card?
Spend the night in the yard

Never seen again
He is gone from her world
Proven unworthy
Heart-shaped box is hurled

Have a heart, will ya? At least I’m not going to regale you with ye olde standard complaints oft heard in relation to Valentine’s Day: